His hips pressed forward at the same time he lowered himself so that our chests were touching as our tongues tangled and our hearts marched forward together, my beat matching his perfectly. I was nothing but liquid want and warm passion, so he sank in deep and rocked his pelvis into mine in the most delicious way. I thrashed a little as my body adjusted to take all of him in. Muscles quivered around rock hard flesh and sensitive nerves danced happily along the veiny length. I loved the way he filled me up, took up every single bit of space, like he was right to do so. I liked the way his weight pinned me down and made his movements and mine more deliberate. I liked the way he fucked me, and the way he encouraged me to fuck him back. I liked the way our bodies grew slick and slipped against one another. I liked the way he made love to my mouth, his kiss mimicking the sexy, raw way his cock pushed in and out of my body. His tongue teased mine the same way he teased my greedy, aching center by sliding almost all the way out so that I was begging, pleading for him to pound back into me, only to have him inch back in, so slowly that I thought I was going to lose my mind. I almost died when he gentled the hammering, thrashing thrusts by cupping my jaw and running his thumb lightly over the curve.
He was taking what he needed from my body, giving me what I needed with his, but he was also taking the time to remember this, to remember us. His eyes never left my face and I could tell he was watching, waiting for that moment he gave me so much pleasure I couldn’t take anymore. He wanted to keep what I looked like when he broke me, split me open with desire and longing, someplace safe so he would never forget it. He wanted to know that he was the only one who could make me look that way and I didn’t need to tell him, because my entire body attested to the fact.
My head tossed from side to side. My toes curled. My thighs clamped around his sides like a vice. My fingers scratched furious lines of passion into his back. My lips screamed his name over and over again. My center went molten and flooded with satisfaction. My nipples drew into points so hard, they had to be poking into his chest. My cheeks heated and filled with a sex flush that I knew would take hours to fade. All of it he could see, he could feel. All of it was proof that together, we made moments that were meant to last. The only secret I had, the only thing his unwavering eyes couldn’t see was the way my soul shattered and my heart fractured. I didn’t want just this moment . . . I wanted all the moments and I wanted them with him.
As soon as my pussy pulsed and clamped down around him, as soon as he watched me fall over the cliff of pleasure he had been pushing me toward, I felt him let loose. His thrusts lost their calculated rhythm. He was pounding into me, chasing his own moment, his own release and he didn’t have very far to run. His legs tensed, his back locked hard under the clasp of my legs, and his pretty eyes went coal dark. He grunted my name in a thick tone and then let his head fall forward so that his nose was buried in the curve of my neck while his teeth clamped down sharply on the ridge of my collar bone.
He filled me up in a different way and I took it all in. The furious rush of desire made my head spin and the still way he lay on top of me after he was spent and burned through, made everything inside of me feel like it was churning and whipping around, furious underneath my skin. I didn’t want to go but I also knew I couldn’t stay.
“Best goodbye ever.” I whispered the words into his ear and felt him sigh into the side of my throat.
He lifted his head, eyes infinitely dark and unreadable. “The goodbye doesn’t matter. It’s everything that came before the goodbye that is important. I’ll forget about the goodbye in time . . . everything else . . .” he trailed away and I wanted to tell him I would remember all as well, but I couldn’t get the words out. I was greedy. I wanted more than memories.
I ran a hand over the side of his face, let his whiskers tickle my fingers, and traced the silver specks that made him look so distinguished and rugged at the same time. I felt my lips quirk up in a grin that was similar to the one he usually gave me and lifted my eyebrows up even though I wasn’t sure he could see my expression in the dark. “So, about that thing you said where I get to sit on your face . . .” I let out a yelp as he rolled us over with a laugh that quickly turned into a growl.
Say what you mean . . . I wanted to tell him that I was pretty sure I could love him . . . and maybe more importantly, I could let him love me. But I kept the words to myself because he would hear that I meant them, and I had a feeling he would say something similar back and that would make leaving even harder than it was already going to be.
No Time to Waste
I thought once I was back in the Bay Area, my life would settle into the familiar grind and rhythm that I had been sleepwalking through for years. It was what I knew. It was habit and routine. I thought I would be able to bury the longing that engulfed me the minute I stepped on the plane and went back to day-to-day business. That everything inside me calling to the wild and calling to Cyrus Warner would be drowned out by the sounds of the city and commotion I used to distract myself with.
I was wrong. So very wrong.
Chaos came crashing down around me as soon as it became clear there was no way Em was fit to be left on her own. She was listless, skittish, and acting like a shadow of her former self. She wouldn’t talk to her family. She refused to go back to work, even after the bandages came off of her face and the stitches came out. She isolated herself from the rest of her social circle and holed herself up in my guest room. She only came out when I made her or when I got a message from Cy updating me on Sutton’s condition.
He was taking what he needed from my body, giving me what I needed with his, but he was also taking the time to remember this, to remember us. His eyes never left my face and I could tell he was watching, waiting for that moment he gave me so much pleasure I couldn’t take anymore. He wanted to keep what I looked like when he broke me, split me open with desire and longing, someplace safe so he would never forget it. He wanted to know that he was the only one who could make me look that way and I didn’t need to tell him, because my entire body attested to the fact.
My head tossed from side to side. My toes curled. My thighs clamped around his sides like a vice. My fingers scratched furious lines of passion into his back. My lips screamed his name over and over again. My center went molten and flooded with satisfaction. My nipples drew into points so hard, they had to be poking into his chest. My cheeks heated and filled with a sex flush that I knew would take hours to fade. All of it he could see, he could feel. All of it was proof that together, we made moments that were meant to last. The only secret I had, the only thing his unwavering eyes couldn’t see was the way my soul shattered and my heart fractured. I didn’t want just this moment . . . I wanted all the moments and I wanted them with him.
As soon as my pussy pulsed and clamped down around him, as soon as he watched me fall over the cliff of pleasure he had been pushing me toward, I felt him let loose. His thrusts lost their calculated rhythm. He was pounding into me, chasing his own moment, his own release and he didn’t have very far to run. His legs tensed, his back locked hard under the clasp of my legs, and his pretty eyes went coal dark. He grunted my name in a thick tone and then let his head fall forward so that his nose was buried in the curve of my neck while his teeth clamped down sharply on the ridge of my collar bone.
He filled me up in a different way and I took it all in. The furious rush of desire made my head spin and the still way he lay on top of me after he was spent and burned through, made everything inside of me feel like it was churning and whipping around, furious underneath my skin. I didn’t want to go but I also knew I couldn’t stay.
“Best goodbye ever.” I whispered the words into his ear and felt him sigh into the side of my throat.
He lifted his head, eyes infinitely dark and unreadable. “The goodbye doesn’t matter. It’s everything that came before the goodbye that is important. I’ll forget about the goodbye in time . . . everything else . . .” he trailed away and I wanted to tell him I would remember all as well, but I couldn’t get the words out. I was greedy. I wanted more than memories.
I ran a hand over the side of his face, let his whiskers tickle my fingers, and traced the silver specks that made him look so distinguished and rugged at the same time. I felt my lips quirk up in a grin that was similar to the one he usually gave me and lifted my eyebrows up even though I wasn’t sure he could see my expression in the dark. “So, about that thing you said where I get to sit on your face . . .” I let out a yelp as he rolled us over with a laugh that quickly turned into a growl.
Say what you mean . . . I wanted to tell him that I was pretty sure I could love him . . . and maybe more importantly, I could let him love me. But I kept the words to myself because he would hear that I meant them, and I had a feeling he would say something similar back and that would make leaving even harder than it was already going to be.
No Time to Waste
I thought once I was back in the Bay Area, my life would settle into the familiar grind and rhythm that I had been sleepwalking through for years. It was what I knew. It was habit and routine. I thought I would be able to bury the longing that engulfed me the minute I stepped on the plane and went back to day-to-day business. That everything inside me calling to the wild and calling to Cyrus Warner would be drowned out by the sounds of the city and commotion I used to distract myself with.
I was wrong. So very wrong.
Chaos came crashing down around me as soon as it became clear there was no way Em was fit to be left on her own. She was listless, skittish, and acting like a shadow of her former self. She wouldn’t talk to her family. She refused to go back to work, even after the bandages came off of her face and the stitches came out. She isolated herself from the rest of her social circle and holed herself up in my guest room. She only came out when I made her or when I got a message from Cy updating me on Sutton’s condition.
